The kitten who stayed . . . for a few months

We named him Marlowe when he strutted into the backyard and then quickly hid in tall beach grass like he knew we would never spot his blackness in the tan and green stalks. He could spy on our activities.

This guy was little too, filled with a kitten's energy and curiosity. He appeared newly abandoned, was clean and shiny. There was no possible way I could ignore that little face in the grass without wanting to get to meet him.

I hesitated and stopped. He boldly walked over and bumped my ankle with his head and began the marking routine. When I gave in about ten seconds later, I picked him up and listened to the loud engine sound of his purr. He weighed around two pounds and was quite hungry.

Since this guy was a kitten, we decided to introduce him to our housecats. Graymatter hated him the instant she smelled his scent. Downyflake hid under the bed and refused to come out into the light as if he'd suddenly turned into a vampire cat, without the ferocity or intent, or an ounce of fearlessness.

And it got worse from there. Marlowe was adorable in every way. We took him to the vet, got him fixed, and vaccinated. No difference to Graymatter. She still hated his scent. Downyflake had lost several ounces of fear fat by then, and Marlowe learned new ways to play that amused the hell out of his humans.

In the end, we found him a home with a terrific couple who'd lost their black cat six months earlier, and peace returned to out house along with a continuous onslaught of cat puke to eradicate Marlowe's scent and to let us know that Graymatter was still pissed off.